Notes: This little series of drabbles is going to contain longer versions of my submissions for beastwars_100 (sometimes, it's really hard whittling them down to 100 words and I want to add things in!) over at live journal.

Each short will be titled with the challenge it was written for, and they probably won't tie in to make one long, flowing story. Each one will stand alone.

All of them will -obviously- be about Waspinator. I chose 13 as my goal number, since it is an "unlucky" number and our bug is quite unfortunate. If the count goes beyond 13 before I lose interest, I will change the title.

Ghosts

There is no such thing as a ghost.

There is no scientific proof, only superstitious belief. Where there is ignorance, there is often foolish, unfounded explanations. And thus…Things in the dark, feelings you get sometimes, something you see, but aren't totally sure you see…Those become ghosts. And yet…No one has proven it.

Sure, there is Starscream, but all he proves is that a spark can exist without a shell. He is not a ghost, because there is no such thing.

Why is it, then, that Terrorsaur haunts Waspinator wherever he goes?

Sometimes, out of the corner of his optic, Waspinator will catch a glimpse of red going 'round a corner. Or loitering in the forest. And he asks himself 'What IS that?' because he knows it is not Inferno or Rampage; they are somewhere clearly in view. Or out. Or too big to be that little flash of red.

Other times, in a not-so-smooth surface -water or unfinished metal- he will spot a familiar smarmy grin reflected over his shoulder. Terrorsaur! And when he turns…Nobody there. Nothing to have possibly made such a shadow on the reflective surface.

During battle, echoing down the hall, drifting on the breeze…Waspinator will sometimes hear an-all-too-familiar screechy laugh. This gives him pause; how can Terrorsaur's laugh echo through the sky when he is gone? There is no way, so he can't really be gone. But…Where is he? It is especially bad in battle, when he seems totally zoned out. It is not that he's incompetent, it's that he's listening, trying to locate the source of the sound.

Then there is the feeling…That feeling of somebody there when he's totally alone. This one happens most often of all and it bothers him most. It is that feeling of being watched and when he looks over a shoulder, no one is there. Or the little voice, low and dangerous, reminding him of his shortcomings, cheering him on, giving him round-about pep talks. Or sometimes…Sometimes, the feel of some one brushing up against him, that kind of feeling that left him feeling as if he was static-charged.

Waspinator isn't sure if he's being haunted by a ghost or by his own emotions regarding the death of his friend, but he suspects it's the later because there is no such thing as a ghost.

And yet…

-'Terrorsaur never really left.' He can't help thinking it, especially in moments where his presence seems so real.-

He lets himself believe anyway, just in case.